Fuck Eyed

So this is the type of trip this vacation to Mexico is gonna be. Let me back up and start with my significant other booked a different resort that the place we've been going to that just so happened to have its own private surf break, 30 min's from down town Puerto Vallarta. In other words, way the hell out there the way it should be. No tourist bullshit, just wake up, surf, pool it, water aerobics with some crusty old folk, sand castles, nap, surf, booze, pass out. A vacation.

The place we're going to, no surf, close to PV, people and lots of them....Strike one.

Anyway, up at 5:30AM, roll to the airport. Packed with all April kids vacation family’s just like us. Go to the ticket counter and "yes I know Mr. Malkoski you’re an Alaska Gold Card Member but we don't have any seats reserved for you." Strike two.

Next up..."Daaaad, my tummy hurts." "Go see your Mum." PUKE. All over the aisle. Yes we were that family. Strike three.

Land in P.V. and over the loud speaker, “Malkoski, please see the baggage claim.” Seems as though my bag with my surfboards fins, my shorts, flip flops or anything is still in Seattle. Sweet, at least I’ve got a sweatshirt and jeans on in Mexico. Rad. Strike 4.

“Honey, we’re on the ground floor, I like it that way, and then we can cruise right to the pool.” “Ok honey, what ever you want.” Open up room 1040 and see 1 bed for 4 of us. “At least the room has a hot tub in it.” “????” Strike 5

“AHHHHHH the toilets over flowing all over the floor! Call the front desk!” Strike 6

I’m looking forward to getting sun poison now and Montezuma’s revenge. It’s in my cards for sure. Fuck it; I’m making an executive decision. I’m “that guy” at the bar getting sauced the rest of the week and coming home with some henna tattoo’s and my back hair in corn rows. Watch out.